


Finery

by IllusionaryEnnui



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Clothing Kink, Fluff, Homosexuality, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 16:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2819228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllusionaryEnnui/pseuds/IllusionaryEnnui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little change, a taste of home. A hunger brews for the finer things, for beauty and for love. || Dorian x M!Trevelyan Mage. (One-Shot Gift) - UPDATE: Now with fanart!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slugette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slugette/gifts).



> A gift fic for a trade my dear [Slugette](http://slugette.deviantart.com/) over at deviantART, who kindly has begun painting me the most wonderful digital tarot card of my Inquisitor and the good Commander. This fic centres around her mage Yvad Trevelyan and his Tevinter lover, who had decided that his wardrobe is in need of a change.
> 
> In addition, slugette was inspired to make two sketches to go along with this: [Yvad and Dorian in new finery together](http://fav.me/d8jarnr) and originally [Yvad in these](http://fav.me/d8962ms).

 

 

  
_Trappings, burdens made_  
Yet from my shoulders, lifted  
 _Into your hands, free_

"- What you had was hideous. Now this... _this_ is truly a magnificent work of art. Go on."

Skyhold's bounty never ceased, the windows shut against the cold, yet the filtered light streamed through the stained glass. Behind the privacy screen, more for suspense than modesty, Yvad Trevelyan eyed the silken threads, ebony and rich purple woven like swaths of clouds across a twilit sky. Flecks of pure silver and gold caught the fading sun. Curious fingers traced the embroidery, traipsing along bands of broad trim and each stitched, sinewy spiral of dragons. So alien, so different than the well-worn leathers of his house clothes, the simpler finery which he often wore in Skyhold for the tedious work of delegations and decisions - oh, how he hated those trivial, painful trifles.

The Tevinter-made robes tapered perfectly to the Inquisitor's waist and the soft, velvety leather conformed to his shoulders. The sleeves reached just the right length. Even the bottom hem lingered loosely about his ankles, but not overmuch. It was a bit light for the southern weather but its comfort countered any discontent. He smiled, couldn't help its pull. He fiddled with the metal toggles, fastening them until all but the top three snapped closed. There, the robe gaped, the pale tunic beneath painted by the growing shadows. A heavy hand raked through the raven strands where they brushed across the wide collar.

 _Not bad_ , he mused. Yvad stepped into the remaining sunlight towards the mirror. Traces of his mirth quirking the corners of his mouth and crinkling at the corners of skin around the fetching amethysts that Dorian swore were the Ostwick mage's eyes.

"Well?" Those violet irises snapped from his reflection, the robe fluttering along the lengths of his legs. Dorian's smirk glowed, his own eyes narrowed, drinking in the sight. His wine glass, a fine vintage of _aggregio pavali_ , lingered near his lips where sunlight stained them in the deepest crimson. A forefinger pulled away, turning in a languid circle. "Give us a turn, _amatus_."

For all his worth, Yvad's smile only broadened.

"Wanting to admire your handy work?" A sly grin shot itself towards his lover as he turned on his heel. He felt the Tevinter mage's gaze, a slow burn like a smouldering match ready to spark back into flame. "I have to admit, you do have an eye for this kind of thing."

Dorian huffed, not yet moving from his seat with only mask of mystery marring his features. Still he held Yvad fixed in his sights as if studying, sketching him into his mind. He leaned back, a flash of mischief dancing across his lips. A breath, another sip of wine savoured…

 _What could he be thinking_ , Yvad wondered.

Did he approve? Or was this some elaborate scheme? Did it bring back memories best forgotten? Or perhaps memories of home, of the Tevinter he so loved?

The sofa creaked and the wine glass rang as Dorian at last stood. Yvad, without thought, took a step back. Dorian's steps were measured, careful strides carrying him across the Orlesian rug until the altus stood within reach. Those elegant fingers, accustomed to casting out spells with flair, stroked along the collar of the robe, straightening a wrinkle here, adjusting a toggle there. Not a word had he spoken but there was something entrancing in each slide of Dorian's fingertips. A moment passed, both stilled until a stray hand slid beneath the open collar, warm as it splayed onto his chest.

"It suits you. However –" A quick flick of those mischievous fingers, a toggle slipped open. "–despite my ability to make you so devilishly handsome to strut in a fine state – and succeeding, mind you – I fear I may need a comparison. Perhaps with a few… less trappings?" Another toggle fell away, one tanned hand left to creep up, growing hotter. The other make quick work of another toggle, then another and then another.

Instinct drove Yvad into submission the moment Dorian reached the belt of cloth and its ornate buckle. Dorian barely tapped the hidden catch before his mouth pressed to the Inquisitor's. A hunger filled them both. Seeking palms pushed the robe from Yvad's shoulders. The robe pooled onto the floor at their feet, a cascading treasure of obsidian and mauve left for another time. The same hands slipped beneath his tunic, bracing his spine. A kiss for a kiss traded, Yvad pressed back in kind, matching Dorian for every touch as the altus tore the away the shift. A shiver played across the lighter skin, but the steady heat chased away complaint.

Where Dorian led, Yvad followed. Leathers fell away, their bare feet and skin only warmed by the last bit of sun, the fire crackling in the hearth, and their own desires. A paused kept them still for but a moment, the box that held the princely robes tossed aside from the bed. With a playful smirk, Dorian let Yvad fall back, crawling after him onto the great expanse. Muscles stretched and tightened, barely touching.

"What are you waiting for?" Yvad eyed his lover, wide and longing.

" _Amatus_ , you cannot imagine the sight you are," Dorian breathed, his words like the hot winds winding through the streets of Minrathous as they played across the younger man's taut throat. A clever tongue darted out, tasting the salty-sweet skin. He knew that body as he knew his own, every flutter, every trick. His mouth painted those yearnings, nipping along the skin. Below, Yvad stirred to them, answered them with a slow rise, his hips canting to match Dorian's press. Clever fingers danced, tiny flickers of fire and desire. They dug into his skin, held him tight. He had barely a moment before Dorian brought him to bear where the Tevinter flipped him onto his stomach. Again, those lips descended. They ghosted down the mage's spine, vertebra by vertebra. The altus's nails marked him, crescent moons etched into his flesh. The broad palms curved over the swell of Yvad's hip, their warm curling around his length. Yvad let slip his pleasured groan as Dorian pulled him up onto his knees. Beneath them, the bed creaked, its Orelsian silks pooling around them.

" _Do-ri-an_ …" Three breaths, three syllables stretched. Those talented fingers stroked, a steady rhythm. A thumb swept over his tip, swollen. Another moan shuttered through Yvad. His fingers clenched into the sheets, nearly ripping into the fabric. Dorian's fingers and tongue of him a whimpering tempest of need. Each stroke brought him closer to release, to the haze only Dorian could bring him… and then the heat was gone. " _Dorian_!" Yvad whined even as he fought the urge to reach out for himself. His fingers curled further into the silks, seeking some purchase, some anchor within the tide.

"There, there," cooed his lover, his accent pouring over his ear. " _Savour_ –" Yvad's eyes slammed shut as a finger probed into his heat. "- _the moment_."

The Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste – whatever titles given – was no more than a man in that moment. He lost himself with every slide, every subtle crook opening him for that greater need. He felt himself slip into that aura of ardour, of lust to fill the void, the hollow place he kept hidden. Whatever those title, whatever his purpose – in that place, he was belonged to Dorian. He gave the altus his reign and in return, he found ease. There, they were themselves, unmasked.

His body tightened, anticipating. He pushed back into Dorian's hands, begging with action rather than words. Into those hands, he offered himself.

And Dorian knew it like the hunger brewing inside his chest, inside his belly where the coil reached its pinnacle, tripping towards the point where it would snap. Yvad's teeth clacked hard, his face buried into his pillow as Dorian slipped in.

Tight.

Warm.

_Ready._

They poured themselves out and refilled themselves from the other. Shallow strokes rocked them in time, the bright light lingering on the edge of the periphery. An arm hooked around him, stretched him to his limits as Dorian's fingers threaded into his hair, the dark curls slick in his grip and his mouth sealed to the junction of throat and shoulder. Yvad's spine bent, arched to press against the smooth planes of his lover's chest. Their bodies swayed, a precarious balance held only by will, learned hands, and the sharp prick of teeth marking their claim.

The pressure built, faster and faster. Ragged breaths became their song, drumming its beat higher and higher. And then, they snapped. They shattered into sparks, silver stars falling across them as they fell into a heap of tangled limbs and sweat, silk sticking to their skin. Every nerve alive, every sense left open. Yvad pressed his lips to Dorian's and tasted the lingering cry of his name as it had poured from them, riding the climax as Dorian's came from his own. Yet all he could see through that fog of warmth and flesh was that wicked smile and the black robes stitched with such promise.

"A pity. I'd rather like to see you wear it again." Over the chorus of blood, the thunder of pleasure, Yvad fixed Dorian with a glare only to find himself swept away by that handsome, sly smirk spreading like wildfire. "Perhaps a little show?"

"Next time." An accord, a promise – why deny what he craved?

And he had to admit: it _was_ truly fine.

 

**The End**

[ **** ](http://slugette.deviantart.com/art/Finery-516144519)

**[[Art](http://slugette.deviantart.com/art/Finery-516144519)** shared with permission and by request from **[slugette](http://slugette.deviantart.com/) ]**

**Author's Note:**

> As my first attempt at such a pairing, I only hope it lives up to expectations. I kinda just felt like adding it here to flesh out my "portfolio" of styles... and I'm pretty proud that the person who it was written for did love it.


End file.
